"Palestrina! I see nothing of your villa."
"We are eight miles from the villa. It lies beyond those other hills—but all the ground here is mine. I was visiting one of my farms. By heaven's mercy I saw you———"
His voice still faltered, and his face was pale with strong emotion; his hand had closed on hers, and rested on her knee.
"You were behind that tall gate then?"
"Yes; I have the key of that gate, but the lock was rusted. Come and rest a moment, you are a long way from Floralia. There is an old farmhouse here; they are all my own people."
She dismounted and threw the bridle to her groom.
"It terrifies you more than it did me," she said, with a little laugh.
He took both her hands and kissed them; he did not answer, neither did she rebuke him.
He led her through the iron gate down a grassy path between the grey gnarled olive trees and the maples with their lithe red boughs; there was a large old house with clouds of pigeons round it, and great mulberry trees near, and sculp-
